Sermon Ideas For Mark 1:1-8 Part 6
That John the Baptist is a mysterious, compelling, and troubling figure
is evident in the surprising range of artistic representations this text has
evoked. Some emphasize his wildness in ragged figures like Donatello's statue
that stands in the cathedral in Siena, thin, spare, speaking of an urgency that
surpasses every earthly appetite. Some emphasize his prophetic role, like the
figure in Gruenewald's Isenheim altarpiece1 whose long, bony finger
points conspicuously toward the cross. Some, like Leonardo's youthful St. John
who peers mysteriously out from a dark background, look appealing, wise, and
a little secretive, as though they bear a message that can't be wholly told.2
The popular gospel movies of the sixties, Jesus Christ Superstar and Godspell,
both present John the Baptist as countercultural, which he was, a man conscious
of the larger implications of community life, someone discerning and quick-minded
who knew Jesus intuitively and took risks. These figures serve to raise the question
why we may need those who speak from the margins, who dare to be eccentric and
outspoken and to resist cultural norms. That there are political consequences
for such behavior is evident in the biblical story; John was imprisoned and beheaded.
That such risks and vulnerability are spiritually necessary for the building
of the kingdom is also evident.
Renaissance art provides us with numerous images of St. John the Baptist
as a child. Raphael's series of lovely Madonnas—the "Madonna del Cardellino," the "Madonna
of the Meadow," and "Madonna with the Infant Christ and the Infant
St. John" or "La Belle Jardinière"—provide three
distinct ideas about the relationship between Jesus and his cousin.3 In
the first, Mary gazes down at John, a toddler already clothed in animal skins,
her arm protectively around him. In her other hand she holds a book. The slightly
younger Jesus stands supported between her knees. John, smiling, holds a little
wild bird out toward Jesus who extends his right hand over it, as if in blessing.
The Christ child's expression, like his mother's, is soberer than his cousin's;
he gazes directly into John's eyes, but seems to be thinking of other things.
There is no infant laughter in him, but the suggestion of knowledge beyond his
years.
In the second, the same three figures, again seated in a pastoral landscape,
are similarly positioned, but here John kneels by Mary's side, meeting Jesus'
gaze as he extends a staff-like cross toward the younger child who grasps it,
one finger pointing upward on the crossbar. The children seem to be exchanging
a knowing look here, and Mary again looks on peacefully, but soberly, as if pondering
something beyond the child's play of two chubby little boys.
"La Belle Jardinière" suggests a very different relationship
between the two children. Here again Mary is seated in the open countryside.
An anachronistic church in the background suggests the timelessness of the moment.
A closed book rests on her arm, but her attention is entirely turned to Jesus
who stands at her knee, one arm resting in her hand, right hand resting familiarly
on her knee. He gazes up at her expectantly, as if waiting to hear what she has
to say to him. John kneels near him by Mary's side, directing an expectant gaze
toward his little cousin. The faces of all three figures convey awareness, but
each seems aware of something different. Mary's intent gaze seems, despite its
tenderness, to suggest something of the weight of responsibility that lies in
her hands. Jesus' open face and outstretched arm suggests an attitude of complete
trust and readiness. John seems rapt in devotion. One chubby leg is poised as
though ready to spring him to his feet and off into the wilderness to begin carrying
out his assigned work. He is the most active figure in the reposeful scene. Clothed
again in his signature skins and carrying a long cross on his shoulder, he seems
to have come into the world fully equipped and directed toward his mission. The
widely debated question of how much Jesus knew about his identity and mission
is addressed differently in each of these paintings and in many others—that
time and again return to the subject of the divine child and the child who leapt
in the womb, recognizing the Lord before anyone else, with an awareness that
seems in these many pictorial accounts, never to have left him.
Marilyn Chandler McEntyre
Santa Barbara, CA
